#her arms 😦🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

[badaseyebags]

…please don’t be gentle 🥺

[ssahotchnerr]

hello hello, aaron thought incoming: i just KNOW aaron would destroy every single one of the team members during a game of beer pong, which leaves them all standing there like 😦 and reader finds it incredibly hot (bonus if reader and aaron are a couple and flirt throughout the entire evening)

if you don’t want to write something about this, it’s totally fine!!! just wanted to share this thought with one of my favorite writers <333 hope you have an amazing day!!!

thank you for thinking of me and for sharing!!!!!!! and omg yes yes YES

i feel like in college, aaron went to the occasional party, BUT in high school, he went to parties weekly. if someone was throwing a house party on a friday or saturday night, he was 100% there. all his friends frequented parties. like he had just gotten back from military school, and while it shaped him a ton, he still wanted to rebel a bit - his bad boy tendencies hadn't gone away completely, he just had a bit more control over it. like in his high school, he was the guy who was a bit nerdy and followed the rules and all, but he got along with everyone. and so he was always invited to numerous things, and he wasn't afraid of letting loose at such. he was one of the cool not-so-cool guys, if that makes sense. AND everyone totally had a crush on him 🤭

when he and haley got together, he mellowed out a bit and stopped partying as much, but when they would go to the occasional party together, she was always his beer pong partner 😭 UGH just the vision of a young aaron at a party >>> 😵‍💫 with haley glued to his side, his arm around her waist at all times </3

and so, he's had a ton of practice and experience when it comes to beer pong:

SO now, you're all having a get together at penelope's apartment - like one of her day of the dead parties - she and derek set up the beer pong table. it's a few games later when aaron's asked to play; he agrees but mentions how he "may be a little rusty" and everyone thinks he's saying that simply as a cover - like oh he's going to be shit at it but that's his excuse why 🙄 BUT clearly they're wrong and HE destroys everyone.

and while everyone else is dumbfounded and questioning everything they thought they knew in life LOL, you just can't pull your eyes away from him 😮‍💨 aaron's wearing a short sleeved shirt, so you can see his muscles flexing every time he raises his arm to toss a ball. or you can't help but stare at his neck every time he raises his head to drink a cup 😵‍💫😮‍💨🤤 he's just oozing confidence, he's cocky in a nonchalant attractive kinda way - like he knows he's good and isn't afraid to show it <33333333 and he's showing off for you, to impress you and he's just glowing every time you cheer him on, it just urges him on 🥰 he's laughing and smiling and just looks relaxed for once, simply enjoying himself.

hehe i love to think this would take place when aaron and you are just in the very beginning of your relationship too 🤭 nothing is labeled just yet, but you know he has a thing for you, and he knows you feel the same 🥰 the two of you have shared some kisses, spend your weekends together, AH hehe and all the beginning-of-relationship nervous jitters are still there 💓💕💓💓

he's driving you home (he didn't drink too much and isn't tipsy or anything - don't drink and drive 🫵🏻) and you turn to him, all flirty, amused, still a bit in shock, and say, "i didn't know you were a master at the art of beer pong"

he chuckles a bit, eyes shift from the road to you for a moment 🦋, a small smirky smile tugging at his lips and he responds, "there's a lot you don't know about me" 🤭 <33333333333333

[localgirlbecomesobsessed]

A Gift for a Vampire

Cathrine x Ed

Cathrine trying to reject the goth girl claims but still giving Ed a hauntingly romantic gift….

Just a short Drabble lmao

Gets a bit saucy at the end maybe I’ll write a part two of what Ed promises at the end 😉

Cathrine inhaled her cigarette as she leaned against the obscuary mansion, watching the sun go down as she fumbled with the dark purple velvet bag in her other hand.

She sighed as she stubbed out her cigarette as she hyped herself up, she’d never given a gift like this before and after Kaito’s and Luca’s look of concern/mild disgust when she showed them what she was planning for her favourite vampire…small waves of doubt started to seep in.

Yuri and Jiro loved the idea though, which gave her the push she needed to actually give him the gift, hesitance from Frostheim’s frosty reaction nearly stopping her all together, if it weren’t for the mortkranken duo she’d never have given him the gift.

She made her way into the dorm throwing her lab coat on a hook as she trudged her way up the stairs, Ed should be awake by now…

If not she didn’t mind waiting…

———————————————————

Cathrine ended up waiting two hours for Ed to wake from his slumber, he awoke for two seconds when she first came into his presence and proceeded to drag her into bed with him claiming the cold had drawn a chill through him and he was in desperate need of her body warmth to survive.

Cathrine of course complied snuggling into Ed and attempting to hide her gift in her skirts pocket, Ed seeming not to notice anything strange as he clutched her close to him inhaling her scent as he hummed happily to himself.

She has a short nap with him and then proceeded to scroll through her phone, waiting for ruby eyes to peek out at her before she made her move.

Except, when Ed finally woke up he simply didn’t want to open his eyes, enjoying Cathrine’s warmth far too much as wandering hands started roaming her body causing Cathrine to shiver and pout as she put her phone down and pushed herself up into a sitting position, much to Ed’s displeasure.

“My beloved😻😈🥰😘, I fear🥹😀😦 it’s-“

She kissed him quickly before he could continue, pulling the velvet bag out of her pocket and dropping it on his chest, smiling to herself as he finally opened his eyes looking down at the small gift bag in confusion.

“What is this…?🧑‍🔬😦🧐🤨It smells delicious🤤😉☺️😛”

He sat up with a grunt as he held the bag carefully in one hand.

“It’s…a uh gift, I thought it would be nice-for when I’m not here…”

She nervously played with her fingers, fiddling with her rings as Ed casually opened the bag pulling out the titanium chain, sparkling eyes widening in surprise as a small Victorian vial filled with a thick dark red liquid appeared at the end of the chain.

Ed uncapped it inhaling the scent deeply his mouth agape and his eyes fluttering as the delicious scent invaded his very being, he quickly put the cap back on not wanting to let the smell escape.

“It’s you…”

His voice came out so quiet and tender as he affectionately stroked the vial, it was a small glass bottle with flowers decorated around it the titanium chain had a clasp and the cap was made with the same material, ensuring it would hopefully never break.

“It’s me.”

She gently took the chain and their eyes met as Ed gave silent permission to put the necklace on him, smiling gently as she leaned forward reaching over his neck as she put it on him. She lovingly ran her thumb down his neck grinning at him as she placed another gentle kiss on his lips.

He sighed as he held onto the vial, eyes flickering over her form as he used his other arm to pull her fully onto his lap, nuzzling into the crook of her shoulder. It was a moment of warmth Cathrine pressing kisses to the crown of Ed’s head as he ran a hand up and down her back sliding it under her shirt.

“Do you like-eep!”

He flipped her over, Cathrine laying on her back looking up at Ed adoringly as he shot her a smirk holding her hands against the bed, fangs peeking out as he leaned down taking her into a passionate kiss, moaning as he felt the heaviness of the vial hang around his neck, spurning him on as he bit at her lip cutting it open and sucking the blood away. Cathrine whining out as she wrapped her legs around him, Ed pulled away grinning as he watched Cathrine pant beneath him.

“My beloved, gifting me something like this…do you truly mean it?”

She had researched different types of gifts especially in the vampiric section , a vial of blood, devoting your humanity to someone…devoting your being to them even if you are gone…even if you are no longer human…

It was a hard choice on whether to actually gift Ed something like this but…

In the end it made perfect sense.

She silently nodded not trusting herself to speak a blood spilled smile etched onto her face as her teary eyes met Ed’s sparkling ones.

“My beloved, you’re truly are a strange human…I simply adore you…I love you, with this around my neck I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

He pressed her hands harder into the bed, Cathrine’s breath hitching as he lowered himself down once again, whispering the words over and over again as he peppered kisses lightly over her face, moving to her neck as he softly bit and licked earning soft moans from his one and only who was writhing beneath him.

“Ed…”

The vial was gently pressed against her neck, hanging from Ed’s as he slid his hands down her body, fingers dancings underneath her skirt. Cathrine gently ran her fingers along the necklace before sliding them into Ed’s hair pushing him close to her as she pulled him into another kiss. Ed paused looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he hiked her skirt up.

“Let me show you how much I adore you my love…”

Cathrine was in for a very long night.

[eevvvaa]

Aaaah let’s have some Soldier Boy, shall we ? 🙂

He tried to bite me this morning and then called me a fucking pussy.

Yeah… Of course he called him that, ahah

But I already feel bad for him and refusing to eat :/

 “Get me the Happy Hero Meal, alright?”

The fact that everything is superhero related, even in the food and products is so accurate ! I know that it is like this on the show and evident because they are the stars of this universe and every products are about them because they kinda are the product, but they pushed the idea so much, I love it

Maybe she can get the fallen supe to come out with the right incentive.

I don’t know why but I love that description/name for him 🥺

she’s one of the only patients who’s allowed to leave the facility whenever she wants

But whyyyy is she allowed ?!

Her knuckles softly tap the white door of Room 11

I love it. I love that you gave him Dean’s room number !

the toes of two socked feet and knows he’s leaning directly against the door, sitting on the cold linoleum.

He already makes me feel bad for him, sitting on the floor, not even laying on the “comfortable” bed… I feel bad for him for being forced to be in this supe rehab place, especially when it wasn’t his desire at all

At least she’s trying to be nice to him and I like that :)

Well, I wanna eat a burger, now ! 🤤🍔

An amused snort can be heard through the thick door, and Y/N’s lips draw a triumphant smile.

Hehe, of course he reacted to that 🙄😂

 He seems wary of her, but granted, so does she, neither of them sure if they can trust one another. Two lone wolves meeting in the wild.

Well, that’s gonna be a fun ride 😂

He observes it reluctantly as if she might’ve poisoned it. God, that guy is paranoid.

After everything he went through ? Yeah, I think he has the right to be !

“Are you gonna talk as much as you have?”

Alright, Grumpy, I won’t if it bothers you so much ! 🙄

I mean, look at those muscles on your arms… Like, wow.

Ahah, same here, girl, same here…

his cheeks blushing the faintest color of red underneath the unkempt beard.

Moooooh, he’s blushing ?! 🤗

 He’s not allowed to have sheets and pillows yet, problematic newbies usually being a suicide risk

Oh… great…

Frankly, he seems quite lonely and in need of some company but still acts too proud to actively seek it. She was the same when she first came here, too – touch-starved, abandoned, and forgotten.

I would be his company 🥰 Also, it breaks my heart that they're similar on this

She can have her phone with her ? I don’t know why but I imagined this place free or every connection from the outside world. Or has she a special treatment since she can also go out and all ? Also, Ben being confused about what she’s doing is something I really love 😂

He wants her to stay ! He wants/needs company and it makes me feel so sad for him… He’s so lonely and lost, he deserves a hug. (It’s chapter one and I already want to hug him, I’m scared of this series 😶)

 he behaves like a shy toddler on their first day of kindergarten.

And I wanna go and take his hand, great !

That’s when Y/N decides to lift her head from her book and acts her surprise. “Oh, hey, Soldier Boy… You’ve made it,” 

And the Oscar goes toooooo…! 😂

Maybe she should fall to her knees and kiss the ground he walks on?

Don’t do that. He would probably enjoy it 🙄

While he might be a racist, sexist asshole and a vicious, coldhearted killer, he admittedly is pleasing to look at.

Yeah… but he’s pretty, we can forgive him 🙂😂

Only time will tell what really lies beneath the hardened shell now that the suit and superpowers are gone.

And I can’t wait to find out !

Oh come on, he’s already looking at her like she is his next meal ? Ben ! Keep it in your pants a little !

Three years. It’s 2025. 

No. I know it’s not the point but no. It’s not 2025 in freaking 3 years. 2 actually 😦

Also, I’m angry at the CIA too for not even briefing him or even for keeping him more years in that box 

“Try fucking never,” he scoffs his repulsion for mental health.

Woooh ! Yeah, let’s not talk about your PTSD and your problematic self ! 🥳

But hey, there’s still glue and glitter.”

😂😂 Just imagining this big guy’s fingers covered in glitter, scratching his eyebrow and putting some more on his face, makes me laugh and want to see this !

“Kinda the essence of my statement, yes.”

oh oooh !! 😂😂 They’re gonna have some pleasant, calm, nice and respectful discussions together 😂

“You know, you should be grateful someone like me is even talking to someone as pathetic as you at all. No man would wanna fuck you anyway, princess. You ain’t that fucking pretty.”

See ? Nice and respectful 🥰

Oh daaaaaaamn ! She’s not gonna let him get away with his crap, at all! She’s not gonna be all nice and won’t take him with a pinch of salt and I wonder if he’s gonna come back to talk to her because she’s actually being up front with him or if he’s gonna hate that, her, and just try to hurt her as much as he can so she doesn’t talk to him anymore. I’m just curious about how it’s gonna go for those two 🙃

Oh yes, he’s been a supe longer than he’s been a normal guy and they just took it from him. And even though he chose this life and those powers, he didn’t do it for the right reasons either… Also, I like that she goes back to him, no matter what she’s about to do, that she’s willing to have another contact with him after their fight (?). And I like that everyone of them did horrible things, including her and that he’s just facing who he is, what he’s been and that she understand that, that she has her own past and wrongs

Orange pill bottle. Pair of scissors. Pool of blood. Maybe he’s gone before she even counts to ten.

*GASP* ! Noooooo !! I know he’s not dead but, he’s human now ! And just the fact that he did this ?! No !! 😦🫣🥺

Well, this chapter announces a happy and nice little series !

Rehab – Chapter 1

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, angst, homophobic slurs & misogyny à la SB, hints of depression, tw: suicide attempt (not too graphic but pretty obvious)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: What starts off fun turns dark quickly…

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Prologue || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: maybe

“Hey, Derek.” Y/N smiles at one of the nurses as she approaches the reception and leans her elbows on the counter. “How’s the newbie doing?”

It’s been three days since Soldier Boy arrived at the pristine Upstate rehab facility, established by the CIA as Project Bloom and fully funded by the American government to counteract the “superhuman epidemic,” as they call it. Y/N, however, hasn’t seen him since then, the glorified superhero still voluntarily locking himself in his room.

“God, what a prick,” Derek huffs in annoyance and rolls his eyes. “He tried to bite me this morning and then called me a fucking pussy. He’s still not coming out of his room and refusing to eat. Apparently, he thinks going on a hunger strike will get him out of here sooner. I’m inclined to just let him rot in there and die.”

“Well, can you blame him? The food in here sucks,” Y/N jokes lightheartedly.

“Hey, you love the chef’s chocolate chip pancakes,” Derek counters, chuckling.

Y/N laughs, nodding. “Yeah, but it’s not Wednesday yet, is it? Mind if I take a shot?”

“Knock yourself out, girl,” Derek agrees to her proposal. “I need a break from this asshole, anyways.”

“Cool.” Y/N grins mischievously and wiggles her eyebrows. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Fine.” With a deep sigh, Derek fishes out the keys to his Prius from his uniform and throws them at her. “Get me the Happy Hero Meal, alright?”

“Duh.” Y/N winks with a smile, knowing his usual order by heart, and uses her chipped ID card to unlock the rehabilitation center’s doors before heading out.

Maybe she can get the fallen supe to come out with the right incentive.

Taking a deep breath, the sterile air of the clinic fills her lungs. She already misses the smell of fresh rain on green grass and fallen orange leaves outside and the peaceful pitter-patter of small streams that wind themselves through the Catskills. Upstate New York is always the most beautiful in fall, and Y/N considers herself blessed that she’s one of the only patients who’s allowed to leave the facility whenever she wants and is lucky enough to enjoy the outside world for a little while.

Her knuckles softly tap the white door of Room 11, her eyes looking inside the small glass window to see if her new sponsee is anywhere to be found. The bed is empty, as is the rest of the space, but when she hoists herself up on her tiptoes and peers down a bit more, she spies the toes of two socked feet and knows he’s leaning directly against the door, sitting on the cold linoleum.

“Soldier Boy?” Y/N checks carefully, foregoing the use of his real name. Some newcomers don’t like that and want to hold onto their former identity for as long as possible. The greatest superhero on Earth certainly seems to fit that category. “Hey, uh, look, I’m not a nurse or a doctor. I’m a patient here like you, okay? You know, I heard you weren’t eating, and honestly? I can’t blame you. The food in here fucking sucks ass. Chef Matt is an awful cook. His chocolate chip pancakes are pretty decent, though,” she chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood, although there’s still no sound coming from behind the door. “But, uhm, I pulled a few strings and got you something from Vought-a-Burger?”

There’s still no answer coming, so Y/N starts to rustle with the brown paper bag, opening it up enough for the smell of greasy fast food to flow out and find its way to his nose through the thin crack between the door and the floor. She then pulls out a cheeseburger, unwraps it, and takes a big bite from it.

“God, this is good,” she moans loudly, mouth half-full. It’s not even a lie. “You know, sometimes I think a good cheeseburger is better than climaxing. I mean, this feels pretty orgasmic.”

An amused snort can be heard through the thick door, and Y/N’s lips draw a triumphant smile. She’s got him – hook, line, and fucking sinker.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” she introduces herself, hoping it breaks the ice a little more. “I-, uh, I’ll leave the bag in front of your door, so you can just grab it when I’ve left and lock yourself back in again, alright?”

As Y/N ducks down to place the brown paper bag on the ground, the door abruptly opens a crack and a head peeks through it. She looks up, and their eyes meet. He seems wary of her, but granted, so does she, neither of them sure if they can trust one another. Two lone wolves meeting in the wild.

“Oh, uhm,” she splutters, not expecting he’d actually dare to show himself so soon.

“Are you eating my fucking burger?”

Y/N giggles and straightens on her feet, the top of her bun barely reaching his broad chest as he towers in front of her like the goddamn Rockies. “No, uh, that’s mine, buddy. But there’s four more in there for you,” she says and holds the bag out for him. He observes it reluctantly as if she might’ve poisoned it. God, that guy is paranoid.

“Fries?”

“Duh, of course. I’m not a monster,” Y/N sasses and adds with a smile, “Even got you a chocolate milkshake, so you can dunk.” She then watches him gruffly nod his approval before accepting the bag. “Mind if I come in and join you for a while?”

“Are you gonna talk as much as you have?”

“Oh, I don’t have to talk at all unless you want me to.” She shrugs innocently and casually stuffs a fry into her mouth. “‘Sides, what are you so scared of, big guy? Don’t tell me you’re terrified of a small girl like me. Powers or not, you could probably still crush me with one hand, right? I mean, look at those muscles on your arms… Like, wow.”

Soldier Boy pensively smacks his lips and clicks his tongue, his cheeks blushing the faintest color of red underneath the unkempt beard. “Alright, get in,” he grunts and holds the door open wider for her, glancing down the hallway before quickly closing it behind her again once she has slipped inside. “No fucking chit-chat, though.”

“Fine by me,” Y/N snorts her amusement and raises both palms in surrender. She drops down on the bed with a blissful sigh and makes herself as comfortable as possible, crossing her legs on the bare mattress. He’s not allowed to have sheets and pillows yet, problematic newbies usually being a suicide risk, and just by looking at him, she can tell he definitely seems somewhat depressed over his current circumstance. Who could blame him, though?

Wordlessly, Soldier Boy eventually settles back on the ground, leaning his back against the bed frame directly underneath her spot this time. A gesture that she finds quite odd. A lot of things are strange about him, in fact. Usually, it takes a while before new arrivals start to trust people here, and it isn’t abnormal that they keep their distance. Frankly, he seems quite lonely and in need of some company but still acts too proud to actively seek it. She was the same when she first came here, too – touch-starved, abandoned, and forgotten.

Y/N then spends the rest of her stay quietly eating her burger and playing Candy Crush on her phone, ignoring his curious glances from time to time as best as she can. She knows he doesn’t want her to know that he’s staring, so she lets him believe that she doesn’t. When twilight filters in through the window and dips the silent room midnight blue, she stretches her tired limbs with a big yawn and rises from the bed, sauntering back to the door.

“Where are you going?”

His deep, husky voice startles her, causing her to halt in her fluffy slippers. She hasn’t expected him to speak or even mind if she left. After all, he hasn’t spoken a word to her for over two hours. “Uhm, just going back to my room. Why?”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow as his left shoulder twitches upward. “Figured we could hang out more.”

“Nah, sorry. My show’s about to start,” Y/N purposely rejects his offer, although it’s truthfully just a rewatch of X-Files she’s ditching him for. To reel him in, she sends him a sweet as pie smile. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, though. You should come. It’s Wednesday, which means pancakes.”

With chapped lips curled into a pout, there’s a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment before she leaves his room and closes the door behind her, smiling to herself. She’s got him exactly where she wants him.

Maybe he’ll show.

The next morning, Y/N sits in the cafeteria in her usual spot by the wall-to-ceiling, sun-flooded window, the clinic’s park outside in full golden bloom, maple trees painted yellow, orange, and red. As she’s poking away at her pancakes, her current choice of literature is propped open next to her plate, although she’s barely concentrating on the words on the page, her eyes curiously darting to the corridor that leads to the bedrooms every couple of seconds.

Will he show up?

And then, an hour before breakfast is officially over, Y/N finally spies him stalking down the hall, insecure juniper eyes warily observing his new surroundings like an antelope carefully stalking through the savannah, watchful of hungry lions hidden in the tall grass.

She fully focuses on her book and food then, observing him inconspicuously from her periphery and trying not to smile as he behaves like a shy toddler on their first day of kindergarten. Pausing for a minute by the cafeteria doorway, he then straightens his sturdy shoulders and, with a brave swallow, grabs a teal tray, marching over to the counter with feigned confidence.

Good boy, Y/N thinks and chuckles inwardly. She’s happy there’s still a bit of a soldier left in him, albeit he’s never truly been much of one, to begin with.

Soon enough, a tall and wide shadow casts over her table and steals her sunshine like an approaching thundercloud, and while he clearly expects her to look up and notice him, she pretends that she doesn’t until he simply takes a seat across from her and obnoxiously clears his throat in an attempt to catch her attention.

That’s when Y/N decides to lift her head from her book and acts her surprise. “Oh, hey, Soldier Boy… You’ve made it,” she says, smiling, and then instantly turns back to her book, hearing him grumble some muffled swears under his breath.

“I’m Ben,” he states with a forced smile, surely expecting a welcoming parade among words of flattery and sheer admiration. Maybe she should fall to her knees and kiss the ground he walks on?

“I know,” Y/N replies with indifference, pretending the book is still more interesting than the company across from her.

Giving up for the moment, Ben then starts to take bites of his pancakes, Y/N feeling his emerald eyes constantly fixed on her, and yet, she still ignores him as best as she can. It’s honestly not as easy as it sounds. While he might be a racist, sexist asshole and a vicious, coldhearted killer, he admittedly is pleasing to look at. No wonder the guy used to be a major womanizer back in the day. The sparkling forest green eyes, the golden freckles on his tanned skin, the muscles that clad his body, the light brown locks that fall into his face, and the bearded, well-defined jaw would surely make a lot of women’s knees weak.

It’s a shame his personality sucks, but Y/N also knows that Compound V, and Vought especially, have a habit of causing people to forget their own humanity, turning them into divine beasts instead. And if anything, Soldier Boy was the very first lab rat, after all – kind of like her. Only time will tell what really lies beneath the hardened shell now that the suit and superpowers are gone.

“You were right, doll. The pancakes are decent enough,” Ben mentions, clearing his throat once more, and Y/N wonders how many times he’ll actually try to earn her heed.

“Told you.”

“What do they serve tomorrow?”

“Well, I hope you like runny scrambled eggs that share the consistency of fucking diarrhea,” Y/N snorts a giggle, hearing him laugh softly, too.

“I don’t,” Ben chuckles and licks his plush lips, his stare intensifying. “But you said you pulled some strings to get me burgers, right? Think you can do that again?”

Y/N briefly glances up from her literature to lift an amused eyebrow. “We’ll see,” she shrugs, the mischief gleaming in her eyes and smile, “Depends on how many favors you wanna owe me.”

Pursing his plump lips, his head bobs as he suppresses a laugh. “You’re spunky. I like that. I’m sure we could come to some sort of a… deal, doll,” Ben notes, the baritone voice laced with a hint of flirtation as his mossy green eyes show a newfound hunger – but certainly not for the food on his plate.

“You wish,” Y/N laughs and is even a little surprised to see her rejection doesn’t bother him all that much.

“Alright, your loss,” he relents and swallows lightly, wiping his palms on his thighs under the table. “So, uh, can you just tell me something?”

“Uhm, sure, I guess so.” She nods encouragingly, noticing his change in demeanor, sadness and fear suddenly festering in his orbs.

“How long was I-…” Ben stops, swallows thicker this time, and then tries again, “What-, uhm, what year is it? How long did they put me in that fucking box again?”

Y/N stumps, not expecting that sort of question, and a bit of anger bubbles up inside her chest. She figured the CIA had at least briefed him before throwing him in here. “Oh, uh… not that long,” she shares, sending him a reassuring smile, “Three years. It’s 2025. You haven’t missed that much, except for a few bad movies and even more awful reality TV shows.”

Fucking Mallory… Not telling him after what he’s already been through in Russia just seems downright cruel.

“And apparently, a cure for Compound V,” the infamous hero adds with a joking huff. “So, uhm, what do people do around here all day for some fucking fun?” he inquires and then mutters bitterly, “Except for not trying to fucking hang themselves…”

Y/N chortles at his obvious abhorrence for the clinic. “Well, most patients here go to therapy, group or single,” she informs him. “But I already know you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Try fucking never,” he scoffs his repulsion for mental health.

“Otherwise, there’s, uh, board games, a library, movies and TV shows in the common room… Couple of months ago, we even got a VoughtPlay 5 and some cool video games. There’s also a gym, which you’re not allowed in yet, by the way. And well, there’s even a spa with a pool and an arts and crafts room,” she tells him patiently without looking up from her book, aware neither of those things will pique his interest in the slightest. “I doubt they’ll give you access to scissors right now, though. But hey, there’s still glue and glitter.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“Why doesn’t that fucking bitch just fucking kill me,” he murmurs under his breath and stabs his pancake with his fork, his jaw locking tight with resentment.

“Who? Grace Mallory?” Y/N checks and finally meets his gaze, having noticed some tension between them when they dropped him off, although she’s not sure if he isn’t just simply blaming the CIA agent for his current status. “No love lost between you two, huh?”

Soldier Boy scoffs darkly, “Yeah, you could say that. That dyke’s still bitter I turned her down for a fuck in the 80s.”

Y/N purses her lips, now wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. “Yeah, uh-huh, why don’t I quite believe you…”

His brow forms angry v-shaped creases at her response, his knuckles turning white around the cutlery in his large fist. “Are you calling me a fucking liar?”

“Kinda the essence of my statement, yes.”

His upper lip twitches in offense, averting his glare to the view outside the clear window. “You’re fucking one of them, aren’t you?”

“Who? A lesbian?” Y/N arches an eyebrow and laughs. “Yo gramps, just because a woman doesn’t wanna ride your wrinkly dick doesn’t make her gay. It just makes her smart.”

“You fucking stupid cunt,” he snaps, nostrils flaring as he brews up a storm in his chest and shows her the monster that slumbers within. She knew it was just a matter of time till it reared its ugly head. “You know, you should be grateful someone like me is even talking to someone as pathetic as you at all. No man would wanna fuck you anyway, princess. You ain’t that fucking pretty.”

“Ouch… Oh no, please don’t hurt my feelings,” Y/N mocks with a sarcastic pout, laughing, and grabs her empty tray, rising from her chair. “I can already see you’re gonna make a lot of friends here. Man, I bet the people in your life always hated you… Guess what? There’s a reason for that. No wonder your own ex and your so-called team sold you out to the fucking Russians,” she huffs harshly, turning to leave. “Now, excuse me. I don’t wanna be late for my backgammon date. Unlike you, people actually like me and are not just pretending to outta fear. Which, by the way, you don’t have that leverage anymore either, so truly good luck. Have fun being alone for the rest of your miserable life, you fucking wimp.”

Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole, a hopeless basket case, after all.

It’s late at night, the full moon standing high and beaming in through her bedroom window when Y/N reaches the last few pages of Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse. Her mind, however, constantly wanders back to Soldier Boy. She knows she overstepped and crossed a line, getting unnecessarily angry with him. She should’ve resisted the urge to stoop to his level. After all, what kind of person does that make her? Who would start an argument with a 106-year-old grandpa? Of course, his views would be bigoted and outdated. It’s like picking a fight with a grave, just screaming meaningless words at a cold headstone.

‘No, she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment always missed its mark. Words fluttered sideways and struck the object inches too low.’ – Virginia Woolf.

There’s a reason patience is considered a virtue, and unfortunately, Y/N has always possessed very little of it since she was a child. Blame it on the years of abuse and mistrust she’s suffered. Her defense mechanism is probably as strong as the former hero’s, her heart guarded by razor-sharp barbed wire. She knows all too well that change takes time, and Ben is admittedly experiencing a lot of that right now and really going through it.

For how long has he been a supe? An adored celebrity? An icon? How long has he relied on his powers, his strength, his stamina, and the fact that no one and nothing could hurt him? God, it’s been probably more than 80 years at this point, and while Y/N once had powers of her own, she can barely imagine what that must feel like – to lose something you’ve had and loved for decades and then be reduced to nothing and no one. She never wanted her own abilities to begin with, but Ben did. He chose that life willingly, just like she chose to have a life without.

Moreover, no one in this facility here is innocent. They’re all assholes, addicts, thieves, rapists, and murderers. They’ve all done things they shouldn’t have, made unforgivable mistakes, crossed too many lines, or lived recklessly without regard for others. That’s why they ended up here in the first place. They’re all guilty of something. Every single one of them, including her.

Sighing deeply, Y/N gets off the bed and slips her bare feet into her fluffy slippers. Maybe she should’ve listened to Mallory when that woman told her she’d have her work cut out for herself with this moronic bastard. Maybe she shouldn’t care this much. Maybe she should be the bigger person and take the high road. Maybe he’s wrong and old, but that doesn’t make her right, either. Maybe she should apologize, albeit she doesn’t really mean it.

One minute, two seconds, and three knocks later, she’s waiting for an answer by his door. She takes four deep breaths; it’s still silent. She tries five more times before pulling out her phone, turning the flashlight on, and shining it through the small glass cut-out for six anxious heartbeats.

Orange pill bottle. Pair of scissors. Pool of blood. Maybe he’s gone before she even counts to ten.

Chapter 2: papercuts – Mon, April 17

Welp, see ya! Happy Easter, folks ✌️🐰 *sneaks off to safehouse*

Tag Lists:

Everything J (Prologue & Chapter 1 only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

Rehab Series: @eevvvaa @deans-spinster-witch @iamsapphine @jessjad @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @spalady26 @zepskies @syrma-sensei @muchamusedaboutnothing @deansbbyx @stoneyggirl2 @zannemes @foxyjwls007​

Note: Wanna be on the series tag and don’t see yourself yet? Lemme know! Everything J won’t be tagged anymore after Chapter 1.

[kmp78]

I got so inspired by K’s amazing fanfics that I also decided to write one!😂 If you K and guys wanna read it, welcome🙈. (It’s just my fantasy and I hope it won’t offend anyone😅.)

—

Valery was sitting in a cozy Italian cafe enjoying her oat latte with a delish tiramisu.

“Mmmm so tasty, so creamy and so sweeeet😍 But anyways, sometimes I can afford a bit of a guilty pleasure, can’t I? No way my metabolism will let it go wrong.”

Aaand another bite, mmm…🤤

Valery licked the the last traces of cream off her fingers and looked at her fresh nude manicure with a smile. Tonight is gonna be special💅.

***

It was already 5pm and Valery was running around her suite trying to figure out what dress to put on for the event. It had to be something elegant, not too plunge but still..sexy💥. Yes, because she always should look sexy, just in case😏. She finally picked a stylish silver midi which would be perfectly outshining others in the dark. Dims suddenly opened the door to their room and sighed with admiration.

“Mon chéri, you look gorgeous!😍”

He hugged her from behind and kissed on her cheek. Valery held his arms and melted in that cozy nirvana☺️.

She was already sitting in the A-class taxi holding hands with Dims and driving to the UNICEF event. Everything felt like a dream but for some reason Valery was a little nervous. Maybe it was just a basic overexcitement.

***

The model turned out to be not the only one who took forever to find a dress. Jared was standing in front his bed covered with different outfits prepared by the collab of Lallo and his PA. Trying all those fur blazers and sparkling robes and heels 👠 was super annoying but he had to as he wanted to look UNFORGETTABLE. As per usual 💁🏼‍♀️. To all his disappointment he hated all those rags and decided to get things done by himself ☑️ ✊🏻.

“That old fool prepared awful looks again🙄. He’s a sweetheart but WHYY everything is so closed?? HE UNDERESTIMATES MY TORSO OR WHAT??? FUCK it. I’ll put on some black pants and a see-through shirt😏.”

He looked at the mirror and touched his fit chest in the blouse. Mmmm, so much better👍🏻🤩

***

Jared and his retinue of similarly dressed Embo and a cutie pie Jn entered the UNICEF hall. He was almost ready to start greeting all his fake fellow celebs and yapping about some useless stuff but the PA suddenly dampened his spirits.

“Val is here”, she whispered. “With her *cough* bf🫢😦.”

Ofc she found it out cuz our girl Valery already made Dims to take some smiley pics together for her stories in advance 📸✊🏻✊🏻.

While Jared was a bit nocked out and eyeballing through the hall, Val went to take more prof pics to make the world know that SHE also was there👸🏻. For a sec she thought of posing with Dims but then dropped that idea as he’d look too nerdy again👋🏻. She shined in front of the cams, chatted a bit with her fellow models and was gonna go back to her table as she saw HIM.

She was prepared to see him but yet the effect was the same as a few months ago at Coachella. A fucking cold shower😵‍💫.

“WTF is he doing here AGAIN with that Barbie Ken guy but most interestingly at one table with KELSEY…??”

The model knew the VS star Kelsey from some of her working sets and that girl was always very open and sweet.

Val also couldn’t ignore Jared’s so painfully familiar slender shape and those wide shoulders she used to love hugging. And those soft locks she loved putting her fingers in…🧔🏻‍♀️🫠😐.

“I HATE HIM!!!”

Dims caught Val’s anxious look and grabbed her hand.

“Are you ok babe?”

“Yesss😁”, Val widely smiled as she turned to him. “I just cannot wait to see JLo!! I’m so excited😃.”

Jared said at the table he was going to leave for a bit. Embo immediately offered to accompany him but his bestie coldly shut him down.

“Sure Emmy, but next time.”

He was…looking around trying to locate HER.

Val rapidly stood up from her chair, whispering that she urgently needed to let all that champagne out and left the table. She didn’t want to go anywhere but some involuntary inner force seized her actions. Val and Jay were both intentionally looking from left to right as they were getting closer and as they reached some foyer next to the emergency exit, they finally bumped into each other.

“Oh!”, Jared played a surprised one using all his Oscar-winning skills. “H..hii😳.”

“Hhhiii…”, mumbled back Valery.

She didn’t really know what to say but with annoyance caught herself staring at his chest and veiny arms through his blouse.

Jared remembered that he’s always been the boss here, cleared his throat and started with a calm demeanor.

“Well, nice to see you. How do you like it here? The music is incredible and everything looks so perfect…you look perfect👍🏻.”

He put on his usual charming face again, bit his lip and glanced at her with a flirty smirk. Even in the darkness Val could clearly see his shining, the most blue eyes in the world.

“Yes, it’s a great event and I’m actually thrilled to donate…”

“Shhh”, Jared interrupted her as he touched her lips with his finger. “Your boyfie can hear us. I gotta go.”

He gently glided over her arm with his hand which made her stomach produce a thousand butterflies and quickly walked away.

Val left all warmed-up and dizzy🤯🫠 She stared at him slowly fading in the crowd and then at her arm he just touched…

“BUSTARD. Not even a little kiss…I gotta fucking get out of here.”

“DIIIMS! We are leaving, I really need something at home!”

“What do you need babe? Maybe I can ask someone to bring it here?”

“NOO babe, I told you WE ARE GOING HOME.”

***

As they entered their hotel suit, Valery glanced at Dims with a cheeky smile😈.

“Take everything off, pleaseee😍🙏🏻.”

Dims made a few steps back in shock but still didn’t mind his girlie’s intentions at all😀.

“What? Right now..?”

“Yes, please!! I want you so bad!!😍”

As Dims was moving on top of her, Val grabbed his arms, closed her eyes and imagined that she’s touching those pale veiny arms with triad tattoos and….

Finally moaned in a total pleasure🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🔞.

THE END😊.

Oh nnnnnnooooooo... 😭😭😭💔

Don't tell me that's the way that evening went down... 😔

Now I'm sad! 😭😫

PS. "Touched his fit chest in the blouse" 😂

I can almost see that... 😏

Good job, anon! 😂👏✍️

[jamneuromain]

first of all, big SMOOCH

Yup this is definitely gonna be bad.)Smut and dubcon says it all hehehehe

I love that he puts the sticky note on her forehead instead on the fridge 😆 such a cute detail) ikr, she's probably not gonna see the sticky note on the fridge if she's hazy and sleepy but she'll def notice something on her head lmao

Lol💀Sure) the gif you pulls out is perfect!! this is exactly how andy crosses his arms when he's angry!! 😆 rip poor reader (rip her pussy too)

Oh no I just knew what he’d say next just from that😖) It's not just being drunk, it's also she failed to show up to *ahem, his idea of anniversary and he cooked and bought gifts and waited till the next morning :(

What???? Are you crazy Andy???? God no😩 I feel so bad because of that. He shouldn’t feel like that🥺🥺) He's so mad I wouldn't even guarantee if he's incapable of saying something worse....... but a young college boy (Mike? Michael?) in contrast to rich divorced Andy Barber... someone is having insecurities about a young gf (whispers: IT'S ANDY!

🤤🤤🤤🤤 this./This is so hot and you described it all so so good. Like, really, it made so much sense.)hehehe yes! HOW CAN I NOT USE THE DIALOGUE AND THE SCENE WE CREATED! IT'S PERFECT!!

I gasped. This whole interaction was so so good.😦🤤 *chefs kisses*) Poor reader going through second phase... and Andy being indifferent... I'm screaming on the inside too

I've given the ending a lot of thought, editing three times about how it goes. I feel like they are going to talk about it a bit more when *ahem, she's not sore and hurting. But for now she says she loves him and everything's good now. Dating a Professor Barber comes with its challenges, but (normally) he's considerate and caring enough to work out the problems.

(That being said, I wouldn't mind a spanking session next time *cough *cough)

I'm so glad you love it <333 The whole storyline hit me a couple of days ago and I just can't help but write it all down! It was intense and angsty and heart-breaking and smutty like everything all at once, but I'm glad it works out!

sending hugs again bc what we created are just beautiful *sniff *sniff

No Use Running

Andy Barber x You / Reader

Warning: NON-CON/DUB-CON, Dark Content, Smut, Angst and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Clit Stimulation, Pet Names (Angel), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Overstimulation, Angst, Angst With A Happy Ending, Dark!Andy Barber, sex toys, vibrator, bondage element

Word count: ~4k

Summary: What are you going to do when Andy is mad at you?

A/N: Big shout out to vera @rogerswifesblog and her amazing moodboard, both help me tremedously with the conversation in bold, also help me spiraling a thought into a 4k smut. Fair warning, lots of angst, which surprises me, really, because I was mostly thinking of the smut when talking to vera (sorry not sorry XD).

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

A year into your relationship, Andy has only one rule for you.

One rule, and one rule only.

Don’t get drunk when you are partying with your friends. If you are partying, tell him beforehand in case he gets worried about you not coming home.

Just this one rule. Don’t get drunk, call him first.

Simple as that.

In your defense… face it, you have no defense. You screwed up. Big time.

You were so excited about the little getaway your friends planned (and told you about it the minute your last class of the semester ended “we’re partying tonight guuuuuuurl”) that you completely forgot about the rule of “calling Andy”, and happily got yourself more than tipsy.

“More than tipsy”. That’s an understatement. Your very last memory about the night was you doing shots with your friends. You find yourself in the shared home of you and Andy in the next morning, lying comfortably in bed with a minor migraine and fresh PJs, trying to remember what had happened.

Tipsy? You were wasted.

Knowing Andy? If he was home last night, he’d be so mad.

You search for your phone around your pillow, finally locating it on the other side of the bed, linked to the charger.

Your gut sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You’d charge your phone on your side. Your phone is now on Andy’s side.

Oh no.

Oh nonononono.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

This is Godzilla versus King Kong bad.

You can honestly hear every ounce of your luck shatters when you turn on your phone and a dozen missed calls from Andy pop up, dating back to last night and this early morning.

Holy fucking shit.

You are doomed.

Andy has already left because he has a full schedule today.

You frown as your phone gone cold. There was no message asking whether you have woken up. No sticky notes on your forehead as usual if you are sleeping late, telling you that he left a sandwich for you in the fridge. No nothing.

He’s really mad.

You frown more when you find excessive food in the fridge. Some leftover beef stew, chicken kabab, and a whole lemon cheesecake. That’s strange. Andy’s not the type to cook excessively.

And no sandwich.

You make yourself some food to eat and clean the house for a bit.

Your memory pieces some fragments together. You remember stumbling into Andy on the porch. You remember dancing in the club, raising your shot glass, and giggling with your friends.

Your memory is still incoherent and you don’t know what happened exactly.

You vacuum the living room, read for your upcoming assignment, and finally, you decide to cook dinner to show that you are sorry.

Leaping up when you hear his car pull up in the front, rushing to the door to welcome him home: “Hey Andy. How’s your day?”

Andy has a large box under his arm, which you pipe up to help him carry it and put it anywhere he wants.

“Just an average day.” He pecks you on your lips, insisting he carries this on his own. You are nervous as hell when he doesn’t smile, not even after kissing you.

You peek at the box, can’t help but ask as you see the black tape circling the cardboard box: “Amazon? What did you buy?”

“Nothing important.” He shrugs, heading up the stairs with the big box.

Maybe he’s not that mad?

You cross your fingers, hoping that everything works out with luck on your side.

Dinner is as uneventful. However, you can feel that he is distracted and uncharacteristically quiet. Andy used to say what he doesn’t want or what he doesn’t like. He’s vocal about your relationship, but this new Andy is so lukewarm that it is scary to you.

You choose to cuddle on the couch after dinner, playing a Netflix show as background noise on TV.

“I’m sorry about last night, Andy. I should’ve called you. I’m sorry.” You loop his arm around your shoulders, looking up at him apologetically, “and I shouldn’t get caught up partying either. I wouldn’t do that ever after.”

Something flickers in his eyes that you cannot catch. In the end, he says nothing, only tightening his grip on your arm, leaning for a kiss.

You rather wish he spanked you or edge you, just like what he did with your previous few wrong-doings. It wasn’t fun but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. You’d rather have him cuddling you after rough sex than to have him ... distant?

You deserve it, to be honest, you know he’d be angry with you.

You only are aware of how angry he is the second you step into the bedroom.

He is fixing the four cuffs tied to the bed, black leather with shiny metal chains. The now-empty Amazon delivery box lies wide open on the floor, giving you the slightest clue of what could have been inside.

Spoiler alert, you didn’t have cuffs in this house. He used to tie you up with his ties.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Andy smiles, for the first time today. He unbuttoned his cuff link and his collar to adjust the length of the metal chains. This normally looks extra hot to you, but knowing what could be waiting for you, you just want to run.

You carefully take a sneaky step back, “umm, Andy, I know you are mad. And I’m so very sorry.” Another step back. “But we can talk this out.” Another step. “Pl-Please don’t be mad?”

Andy rests his hands on his hips, his blue eyes icy cold.

“Sit on the bed, Angel.”

“Andy-” You visibly gulp, tensing all the muscles in your body so that you can dash to the stairs the second he drops down his guard.

“Don’t make me fuckin’ repeat that.” He shoots back at you.

You are going to die on the bed for all you know. You are going to be edged to the brink of your life. A chill runs down your spine, every sense in your body warning you of the menacing danger you are faced with.

“Please, Andy, we can talk this out, I’m begging you.” You plead to him, slowly dragging your feet to the door instead of the bed, “please, Andy.”

Your fight or flight response kicks in the second he prances on you. Of course, you choose to run from him.

You barely make it to the stairs when he grabs your wrist and halts you by your waist, clutching your body so tight like you are a prey struggling for its life. Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Your body, although unwillingly, clings to him for dear life, fearing that he slips and drops you on the floor.

“Andy, please! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!” You yelp when he throws you onto the bed. You try to sit up when he clasps your ankle with one cuff, you are forced to lie down when he clasps your wrist with another cuff.

“Can’t believe you even tried to run - save it, Angel. You’re in for a long night.” He huffs disapprovingly.

Clasp. Clasp. All your limbs are secured and tied up. He didn’t even bother to take off your nightdress, only pulls your panties to your ankles.

You think it couldn’t be worse.

Oh but it did.

He takes the vibrating wand from the bedside drawer and loosens his belt.

You watch in horror as he fastens his black leather belt around your thighs, squeezing the wand between your legs, where it nestles on your clit.

“Andy-”

“See, Angel, I was planning to hold that wand myself,” he kisses your forehead. The darkness seeps back into his eyes. With a flick of the remote on his phone, the wand buzzes to life. A warm grin on his face, he retreats to the corner of the room, where he sits on a chair and opens his laptop, “too bad I need to work first.”

The vibration is low yet brutal. It triggers your body into moving your hips to avoid it, not that there is much space to move. Without his kisses and skilled fingers working your body, your pleasure builds up high and dry, your skin heats up reluctantly, seeking the attention it deserves.

“Andy-” You choke when your squirming accidentally has the wand brush your clit again, “please, I’m sorry.”

He glances at your frame briefly; his eyes soon return to his laptop. Crispy strokes from the keypad seem to be mocking your fruitless begging.

Your core twists in agony. It doesn’t take much to force an orgasm out of you.

“Pleaaase, Andy, please don’t edge me.” You whisper, moaning when the stimulation to your clit brings a fresh wave of arousal pooling down your pussy. Your channel expects his shaft, but you get nothing. Tide riding higher in your veins, rushing to your core, you are on the verge of cumming any second.

He raises his head from the laptop, a smirk curls his lips when he dials the vibration up a notch.

“Andy-!”

The buzzing grows louder, no longer a soft vibration, but a stronger torture to your clit.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t cum.” He buries himself back into his “work”, his calm voice ghosts your ear, “you can cum as many times as you want. You’ve got all night, Angel.”

Your hips buck into the air, pressing your clit tightly on the wand, drawing the first orgasm out of you. Your body bounces on the bed as the orgasm hits you, doing all it can to run from the incessant stimulation on your clit. You wish you could run, but you are chained to the bed,

“Andy, please.” You cry out, tears rolling down from the corner of your eyes, “I-fuck-I said I’m sorry!”

The loud snap when he shuts his laptop makes you shiver.

“The thing is,” Andy sits perfectly still, he watches you writhing on the bed as the second orgasm builds up, "I don’t think you are." His tone barely contains his anger, “bet you totally forget about what yesterday was, huh?”

“Wha-”

“It was supposed to be our one-year relationship anniversary.”

Your brain stops working altogether.

Oh no. It was.

You started dating around this time last year.

You didn’t think you were doing an anniversary this early. If you are counting from the day you became boyfriend and girlfriend, you are two months away from your anniverisary.

“I cooked for candle-lit dinner and bought roses and shit, and what did you repay me with?” He crosses his arm and scoffs, “no texts. No calls. Get fuckin’ drunk with boys.”

Your mind clears its fog, letting you remember you stumbling into Andy while waving goodbye to Mike (or Michael?), who volunteered to uber you home when you were all getting “tipsy”.

“It’s nothing-He just-oh fuck, he just came along to make sure I got home. I’m sorry.” You whimper, your sentence cut off as you feel arousal leak from your pussy, “I’m really sorry about-ah-what you planned. Please, please stop the wand and we can talk.”

His words drip with sarcasm, “and I’m just a poor old fool who thought I could capture a young girl’s heart.” Andy snorts, “that work out well.”

Even as pleasure gradually clouds your brain, you understood what he said and a pang of pain rips your heart to shreds. If you knew about his plan, no, if you remembered, or thought about your anniversary, it wouldn’t end up with both of you in agony.

This is all your fault.

“No, Andy,” you croak, trying to ignore the buzz between your legs, “don’t say that.” It’s not true. I love you.

Andy doesn’t reply to your pleading, his cold expression molded on his face again, “you asked me to be ‘thoroughly fucked’.”

You did, trying to peel him out of his black T-shirt, trying to have him kiss you, saying tons of things that you utterly regret now.

“You wanted it last night, no? Wish granted.” Andy growls, “now take it.”

He turns up the vibration again.

If the previous vibration was barely endurable, this time it is way beyond what you can handle.

You cum with a scream, tugging the chains with your tied-up legs. The rattling of the chains doesn’t stop when you finish cumming. You jolt and kick, as the buzz is incessant on your clit, and you are on your way to your third orgasm.

“Andy, I’m sorry.” You whimper, “it hurts.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Andy picks up a book on the table, glancing at you one last time before he shuts his mouth and starts reading.

Another orgasm hits. And another. You can’t tell what hurts more, your swollen clit or his indifference. You scream and plead, stammering between moans and words, some of them mumble into one. Your skin is coated by a sheen of sweat. Your body reacts to the wand with overruling pleasure above your mind, having you think of nothing but the sensation from your bundle of nerves. And then it starts to hurt. With every second of the wand between your thighs, your mind cannot decide if it wants more or to get away from the stimulation. Another orgasm punches all the air from your lungs. Your cry is silent, mouth agape, tears roll into streams, your body refuses for you to breathe in, running low in oxygen that your vision has spots.

The stimulation between your legs dials down to a full stop.

You draw in a lung full of air. Coughing as you feel your chest is about to explode.

Your body buzzes. Or your clit still feels the buzz ghosting your legs. Your pussy twitches, quivering as it feels cold, soaked with your arousal. Your chest rises and falls, your heart pounding by your ear, your vision blurry with tears.

You want to curl up to your side. Your body is stressing as if it has just run a marathon.

The tugging from your wrists and ankles reminds you, you can’t.

A pillow is stuffed under your head, helping you to breathe a little.

You blink a few times before you make out it’s Andy sitting by the edge of the bed.

He held your head, bringing a cup to your lips.

You swallow on instinct, nearly choking yourself when you are taking big gulps of water.     

“…?”

His lips open and close, saying something that doesn’t make sense to you.

Or your ears are ringing so that you can’t hear.

“Wha-?”

“Still talking, I see.” He nods nonchalantly, “do you need more water?”

You shake your head.

He takes the cup, standing up to leave.

“Wa-ait!” You tug the chains desperately, trying to get a hold of him, “Sorr-sorry.” You sniff, “can’t. Can’t cum.” You realize how hoarse your voice is when you open your mouth to speak, like someone rubbed it on sandpaper. You feel sorry. You are sorry. You do. You just can’t do this anymore. Even if you are not screaming, your body is screaming bloody murder.

“Shhh, just a little bit more.” Andy coos, turning up the vibration again.

“No. No-!”

Andy watches as you make a mess on your shared bed over and over again. Your mumbling pleas and begs melt into crying and screaming. Arching your hips as your body reflexes, even though it adds to your misery. Your orgasm hits stronger and slower every time, lasting longer, depriving you of your breathing. You lean your head to the side, panting, struggling. Not out of your will, but when your body instructs you to.

Your thighs flex instinctively when he sits down and caress your buzzing thighs, which are still bound together.

“Don’t think about anything.” He bends down to kiss your belly, coated in sweat. His beard scratching your sensitive skin, having your core tensing once again. “Talk to me, Angel.”

Your brain is clouded. Hearing his voice, you mumble something that you don’t recognize yourself.

“Do you want this to stop?” His voice sounds muffled. Blocked. Like speaking, but with cotton in your ears.

But you understand.

“No-No-hmph.”

Your brain mushed. It hurts. You want more. Keep it going. Till the end of time.

Andy chuckles.

He dials the vibration down to a full stop. You, however, cry out again, one word slurring into another, “More. Want-more.”

He turns a deaf ear to your begging, unclasping his belt to reveal your thighs, having the belt digging into them so hard that leaves a red mark on both of them.

You burst into tears when he pulls the wand out between your legs. Your hips bucking for more pain and pleasure.

The wand is wet. From your arousal and your sweat.

Andy drops the wand to the side, unclasping the restraints on your ankles.

“More…” you whimper like a wounded animal, “more, Andy.”

Andy pries your legs open. Red marks from the wand between your thighs. A puddle of creamy arousal underneath you. Your legs shaking, trembling. Your pussy is red, swollen, covered in slick. Your clit puffy, peeking out from your pussy lips.

“More.” You mewl, as if that’s your whole vocabulary, “more.”

Andy kisses the red marks on your thighs gently, “you like that, huh?”

“Yes. More, Andy.”

Tears stain your cheek but you are about to cry again. Anything to have the wand back. To have something stimulate you to orgasm. Anything to stimulate you, burn your body with pleasure.

This is what he’s been waiting for. To overstimulate you until you are truly overwhelmed with pleasure. You will want more pleasure you can take until you pass out. You will agree to anything for it. Most importantly, you will want him again.

He unclasps your wrists too, prying your legs open more to touch your clit.

“Yesyesyes.” You grind your abused pussy to his hand eagerly, whimpering when he draws his hand back.

“My Angel…” He sighs, stripping himself out of his suit and trousers. His thick shaft straining in his boxers when you moaned and cried. He kneels on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, hovering above you to kiss you, “my beautiful Angel. You’re mine.”

He sheathes himself in entirely at the last word, having you cry out. Having you moan his name. Having you digging your nails into his arm.

Your walls grip him. Sucking him in. Welcoming him with warm wet heat. Your walls crave his cock, craving to be filled to the brim again, craving the stretch and burn as you try to accommodate him.

The pain blends into your pleasure. You can’t tell them apart. His cock brushing your clit on his way out. Your walls convulse. Him slamming back in to rearrange your guts. Your walls clench down. He takes your long-ignored nipples into his mouth, sucking and tugging with his lips. You could only sob because of how good it feels.

You want more. You want him. You want his tip kissing your cervix.

“Say it.” He grits his teeth and spits out, “say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours.” You chant as he knocks the breath out of your lungs, his shaft thrusting deeper, harder.

“That’s right, Angel.” He snaps his hips into you, “you’re fuckin’ mine. I’m the only person who can make you feel this good.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm next to your head.

You stutter his name when you cum, your vision blacks out, everything is slowed down to a halt. You feel a few more thrusts, and his hot spent flood your pussy.

Then you drift to a dreamless sleep.

Your arms hurt. Your legs hurt. Your stomach hurts.

There’s not a fine muscle left on your body.

You curl yourself into a ball, facing the opposite direction of Andy, wincing as you hug your knee.

Your pussy hurts too. Sore and tired from the orgasms ripped out of your body.

Your eyes are dry as if the Sandman blinded you, but you still shed a couple tears onto the pillow. Some of them traveled across your nose bridge and blended into the tears from your other eye.

You can’t believe he overstimulated you. You can’t believe he punished you so hard for disobeying one rule. Most importantly, you can’t believe he had no faith in your relationship. After the class, after the drama with Laurie, after his participation and encouragement in your writing, he means everything to you.

The heartbreak from last night catches up to you, piercing your chest, so painful that you couldn’t breathe.

You open your mouth to ease the pressure of your puffy nose, but the pain just follows your breath like a knife, slashing everywhere it could reach.

You try to cry as subtly and quietly as you can, but your shaking body betrays you, having Andy push himself on his elbow to rub your arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” He whispers softly.

He notices you are not responding, leaning closer to check on you: “Shit.”

He grabs the Kleenex box, places it in front of you, and moves to spoon your naked body, kissing your bare shoulder: “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m such an asshole.” Kiss. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.” Kiss. “Please don’t cry, Angel.”

“I got too angry over the night before and…” he sighs, “I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”

“How can you say that?” You turn abruptly, staring at him with watery eyes, tears falling from your cheeks. You can almost hear your spine crack for turning so fast, “how can you say that like you mean nothing to me? Like I’m some gold-digging bitch exploiting you?”

“Angel, I-”

“You mean the world to me, Andy.” I love you. “You are everything I write, you are every reason I come home to, you are every piece of my heart.” I love you. “And I…”

Maybe it’s your insecurities. Maybe it’s the unsuccessful marriage of Andy and Laurie. Maybe it’s your stories that you are certain every hero and heroine would be the perfect match for each other, but you can’t be certain in real life.

You would return Andy’s excessive interpretation in class right back to his face. You would challenge him academically in his office. But you suddenly feel your tongue way too heavy to say the simple word, “love”.

Andy hears your silence.

Andy cups your chin, having you look him in the eye.

Andy, as a writer, knows there are a million ways of interpreting this silence, but choose not to.

He chooses to look at your bed hair, your puffy nose, your teary eyes, carving every detail into his memory.

He wipes the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, Andy.”